Letter 69 – Horses and Waves

Dear Garrett,

There are two pictures hanging on the walls of our new house that I want to speak of. Two large, framed pictures that I gave to you when you were younger.

First, is the photo of the big blue wave that I gave to you on your sixteenth birthday. I saw this photo on my computer one day. I remember thinking to myself, my god, this is Garrett. Big in its awesome energy, and full of beauty. You can see the wave is going to come smashing down any second and create an awesome crash. That was you. Beautiful and poised right at the brink. Bam. I can imagine it. The wave slamming down in its immensity. That was you, Garrett.

I tracked the photo down and I bought it and gave it to you for your sixteenth birthday. Look at its beauty, Garrett, I told you. This is you. This is you and everything that you are. All the energy, all the beauty. And though you shook your head at me like you thought I was crazy, that photo hung over your bed until the day you died.

And then to hear, that you rode out on a big blue wave on the day you died. Of course, you did. Of course, you would. And I think back to your very early years as my beautiful son, and how my heart broke for you for no reason at all.

Second, is the photo of the horses. I gave that to you on Christmas. This is the photo I thought of when I wrote the poem that is on your memorial card. I gave it to you in your junior year. The photo is of a small group of horses, facing away from the camera, heading off toward the sun, that was setting at the end of the day. When I bought it, I remember thinking, I don’t know why, but this is the one. I don’t know who the other horses are, but you are there. You are there, heading off with them.

I see you as one of those horses, at the time you died. Your soul trotting off with the others who were waiting for you on the other side. They gathered you up and led you away, to wherever it is the sun goes down.